The Thin Line between Love and Dove
by leezh
Summary: Chase/Cameron. Futurefic. Chase, who gives a big deal about Valentine’s Day, is mind-swamped by the never-ending surgeries at the hospital. On the other hand, Cam, who is more skeptical, is the one who is plunged into the 'heart-ness' of it all.


**Title: **The Thin Line between Love and Dove

**Author: **leezh

**Fandom: **House

**Pairing: **Chase/Cameron

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Futurefic. Chase, who gives a big deal about Valentine's Day, is mind-swamped by the never-ending surgeries at the hospital. On the other hand, Cam, who is more skeptical, is the one who is plunged into the 'heart-ness' of it all.

**Notes:** Happy Valentine's Day (for you couples)! For you guys who are currently single, just like me, let's celebrate our single-ness! )

"_Love is a grave mental disease."_

_Plato_

**I. She**

She hates traffic.

_Bad traffic!_

_Evil traffic!_

_Kill traffic!_

A yelp of frustration-

She slams on the wheel.

Not because she wants to.

She just has to.

Glancing at her watch-

_Damn._

Ninety minutes and a _freaking_ kilometer.

_Where-_

_Or rather-_

_Why the hell everybody is going out today?_

And, really, it doesn't help that the streets are literally pink.

Yes, pink.

She squints.

Pink hearts everywhere.

At store windows, Cupids.

Mellow (and slightly tuneless) songs courtesy of the street musician.

And, of course, roses.

Dozens of them, not surprisingly, red, and not to mention, bold.

A glance at her cell phone.

No new messages.

No missed call.

Nothing.

Cannot help but to laugh.

Dryly.

Remembering a figment of memories.

_**Trigger**__: Happy Valentine's Day._

_**Response**__: A holiday that only applies to people who are already paired up. For everyone else it's Wednesday._

And the verdict?

It's Monday.

And if the traffic is still dragging on?

It will be a bloody Monday.

She curses.

**II. He**

He's done.

Finally.

No more patients.

No more scalpels.

No more lives on his hands.

Well-

At least for the day.

But he always is grateful.

Rubbing his eyes.

Geez, he is so tired.

So, so tired.

The wonder of him just fall asleep right there and then in the locker room.

However-

There is something.

On the back of his mind.

Something…

Important.

Life-and-death important?

He frowns. Putting on his suit.

Does something slip his mind?

Surgeries-

No.

He is sure they were perfect.

And when he thinks it through, the nag was there already.

Long before he even performed any.

He picks up his messenger bag.

Slings it over his head.

_So…_

_What can it b-_

His body goes rigid.

_Shit._

_It's Valentine's Day._

_Cameron._

**III. Them**

It is dark already.

Switch button, ignored.

No need.

He knows where everything is by heart.

Dark in the apartment.

Awfully quiet too.

Unconsciously, he tiptoes.

Pass the sofa set.

The dining table.

And-

His heart sinks.

Candles.

Two sets of candles on the table.

With another couple's set of plates.

Cold.

Untouched, and unnaturally still.

The guilt swarms him over.

It is an occasion.

_The_ occasion, he knows it is.

Since when she cooks?

She doesn't even set the table on most nights.

His eyes travel to their bedroom door.

Door, ajar.

Two centimeters gap.

Careful push.

And peering, he detects no movement.

Just darkness.

Total block of blackness.

Saved except for the illumination from the bedside table.

Tiny, greenish.

Wombat, the digital clock.

With four eyes staring at him.

Two zeroes and an eleven.

Blinking, he adjusts his eyes.

Suit, shrugged off.

Tie, loosened.

Approaching the bundle that is her.

Climbs up to the bed.

He kisses her. Gently.

Testing the water for now.

Gets sleepy mumbles as reply.

She rolls.

Swarmed by the antiseptic smell that is him.

"That's the apology?" she demands.

He smiles.

She doesn't.

"It's a very lousy one."

Heavy on annoyance.

With a hint of stabbing.

But the smile stays on his face.

"No," he replies.

Thick on the Aussie accent.

"That is so you'll be lucky today."

Slight pause.

She reaches over to the bedside lamp.

Switching it on.

Revealing his face.

Hair rumpled.

Pale skin.

Blanketed by sheer exhaustion.

His eyes, though.

Those greenish blue eyes.

Staring at her, reflecting the minimal light beautifully.

"It is said that being awoken by a kiss on Valentine's Day is considered lucky," he continues.

"And originally, Valentine's Day is on the 15th."

He starts on his childish grin.

"So it still counts."

A beat.

She considers.

Then surrenders.

Annoyed gaze melts.

Tiniest smirk forms on her lips.

She comments, affectionately.

Failing on the fake coldness.

"You and your superstitions."

He laughs.

Good-naturedly.

And it sounds like the world chuckles with him.

Caressing his hair, she says,

"I still remember Jim."

Laughs decrease.

Puzzled looks on his part.

Jim? The dove?

His surprise for her a few Valentines back?

He released the dove, true.

Right after she woke up.

In their bedroom, nonetheless.

And she yelled then.

Before he had the chance to explain himself.

'_You saw a dove first thing on Valentine's Day-_

_You would marry a kind-hearted man.'_

And she yelled, still, afterwards.

Because Jim refused to settle.

But that was a few years ago.

He blinks.

Something is looming.

He just doesn't see it coming.

She looks straight into his eyes.

"Chase, will you marry me?"

All it takes is a beat, before-

A smile.

Followed by the passionate kiss that rules all verbal answer there is.

**FIN.**


End file.
